


I'd Rather Not

by missmichellebelle



Series: CrissColfer Bingo [2]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Stubble, Tickling, crisscolfer bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1828948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop calling my stomach weird, you’re going to give me a complex.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Rather Not

**Author's Note:**

> For my CCBingo prompt: **Stubble**.

“You have stomach stubble.”

Darren cracks an eye open as Chris breaks the Sunday afternoon silence they’d been reveling in. He’s reclined against the admittedly ridiculous amount of pillows they have on their bed, Chris having sunk from being shoulder-to-shoulder with him to being… Well, nose-to-hip. His head is pillowed at Darren’s waist, one arm slung over Darren’s thighs—or, well, it _was_. For the past few minutes, Chris’s hand has drifted, fingertips brushing feather light over the worn-cotton of Darren’s t-shirt and making him squirm slightly from the tickleing sensation it caused.

But Darren’s shirt is rucked up now, just a bit, Chris’s finger dragging back and forth from hipbone to hipbone, right over Darren’s (exaggeratedly bulging due to his slouching position) stomach.

“What?” Darren asks, voice low and sleepy despite the fact that he has yet to actually fall asleep. He scrubs a hand over his eyes beneath his glasses, blinking himself awake and looking down at Chris and his wandering hand. Now that he’s more awake, it’s starting to tickle again.

Chris splays his palm and runs it from the band of Darren’s boxers up to his belly button and then back down again. It doesn’t really feel like more than skin against skin, but Darren understands what Chris is saying.

“Stomach stubble,” Chris repeats, and he seems fascinated and his whole palm turns to just his index finger, stroking back and forth against the nubs of hair that are just poking through Darren’s skin.

“More like happy trail stubble,” Darren mutters, squinting down at what he can see of his bared stomach. It clenches suddenly—what Chris is doing really _is_ starting to tickle—and Chris pauses in his movement.

“It’s weird,” he concludes.

“No it’s not.” Darren’s voice isn’t even the slightest bit defensive. “It’s what happens when you’re forced to wax your stomach and chest. The hair eventually grows back.” Darren’s hand slides along the sheets until it finds Chris’s back, and then slips up it until his fingertips find Chris’s hair. “Guys have hair on their chests. It’s a thing.”

“I know it’s a thing,” Chris bites back, but the venom in his voice is lessoned—Darren thinks it’s because he’s playing with Chris’s hair, and Chris likes it a lot more than he’s ever let on. “I’ve seen you with hair on your chest, this is just… Different. It’s, like, not hair yet. It’s just short and… Weird.”

Darren frowns down at him before giving a little tug to the hair at the nape of Chris’s neck. His head jerks, and then he swats at Darren’s hip in retaliation.

“Stop calling my stomach weird, you’re going to give me a complex.” Darren pouts at him, even though Chris can’t see it, and Chris just snorts in response.

“I can’t give you something you already have,” he retorts, and Darren’s mouth drops open—he can’t tell if he’s actually offended by the statement or not. He does _not_ have a complex about his stomach.

Not really.

Maybe, like, a really tiny one.

Isn’t there a thing about how significant others aren’t supposed to use body image complexes against you though? Darren is pretty sure that’s a thing. If not, it definitely should be.

“Besides,” Chris continues, before Darren can add his new rule into the unspoken contract of their relationship, “You know I love your stomach.” And just like that, all of Darren’s maybe existent offense dissipates as Chris presses his lips to the round curve of Darren’s abdomen.

Darren is silent for a moment, fingers moving idly through Chris’s hair, before he says, “I could always wax it again if it bothers you.”

It’s not _awful_. Darren would really rather not, but Chris does a lot of his own _really rather nots_ for Darren. That’s just a part of being in a relationship. Compromise, or something. All Darren knows that if it makes Chris smile, or laugh, or just _happy_ even if Darren can only see it in his eyes, it’s worth it.

Chris smiles—Darren can’t see it, but he can feel the way Chris’s lips shift against his skin, can see the way the shape of his cheek changes around it. And then his nose wrinkles up, and Darren can feel that, too.

“No,” Chris muses, finger brushing back and forth the stubble that… Yeah, Darren is a _little_ more self conscious of now than he was about five minutes ago. “I like it when it’s all grown out.”

 _I can deal with the stubble_ , is what goes unspoken. _Even if I’d rather not_.

At least, that’s what Darren thinks Chris would say.

“I’ll will my stomach hair to grow as fast as possible, then,” Darren promises, voice solemn, and Chris’s huff of laughter sends shivers up Darren’s spine.

“Dork,” Chris concludes, lifting his head up to glance at Darren. His hair is mused, and there’s a line pressed into the skin of his cheek, most likely from Darren’s shirt, and he is absolutely beautiful in a way that makes Darren’s entire chest clench.

But then Chris’s hand drifts to Darren’s side again, making him squirm, and he frowns down at Chris.

“Stop that, it tickles.”

The second Darren says it, he realizes his mistake. As Chris’s eyebrows arch high on his forehead, Darren knows he’s just signed his doom.

“Wait—“

And Chris blows a raspberry against Darren’s stomach, and Darren laughs, more from the knowledge of Chris doing something so _ridiculous_ than from the actual sensation.

But also because it makes him happy. The Chris that Darren had first met would have never given him a raspberry. Would have looked at Darren in alarm at the mere suggestion, much less do it of his own accord. _I’d rather not_ , Chris would have said.

Darren wiggles and twists against Chris’s searching, tickling fingers, and then grabs him by the forearms to pull him up. Chris is laughing by then, like _he_ was the one being tickled rather than doing the tickling, and Darren couldn’t not kiss him in that moment if he tried.

**Author's Note:**

> [Read & Reblog on Tumblr](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/89569949280/id-rather-not)


End file.
